world. She stayed much in her own room, or
sat in a corner when in company. She was
embarrassed in conversation, and shunned
notice. She was not popular. People said
she was proud and stand-off. So, I thought,
she certainly was; but I believed the fault was
not her own.

For my own part I tried, without forcing
particular attentions upon her, to wear off her
fear of me, and to establish a friendly footing
between us; and I succeeded. Knowing her
better, I found that she had a bright fancy, and
a large capacity for enjoyment; only the
misfortunes of poverty and debt had overshadowed
all the sunny side of her nature. I loved her
more every day, and longed to lift her from
under her cloud into the broad light of happiness.
Meantime, I mused much as to whether
my love might or might not be returned; on
the possibility of Peg's crushing troubles having
made her mercenary; on her gentle attentions
to Giles Humphrey until she was set aside. I
detested myself for these doubts, and endured
them still. But meanwhile something
occurred.

One night, after we had all retired, Giles
Humphrey kept me long in his bedroom, listening
wearily to his wild egotistical talk. At last
I broke away from him, and was coming softly
down the corridor, so as to disturb no one,
when I was startled by hearing the rustle of a
woman's dress, and looking, saw, by the faint
light of a dim lamp, two figures, a man and a
woman, separating quickly, and moving in
different directions. The man, I could see, was
my uncle's black servant, and, after a moment's
reflection, I concluded that the woman was some
silly housemaid, who could not help flirting with
even Jacko. The adventure did not disturb my
night's rest.

But the next evening it happened that, coming
into the drawing-room after dinner, I looked
round the room, and missed Peg. I also noticed
that neither was Lady Fitzgibbon to be seen,
but that did not much disappoint me. Watching
impatiently for some time, and finding that
Peg did not appear, I left the drawing-room for
the purpose of asking Mrs. Daly to step up to
her room, lest she might be ill. But, before
doing this, I went up-stairs myself to fetch
something I had forgotten in my own chamber.
Going thither, I had to pass the end of that
corridor which I have mentioned more than
once before. At this hour of the evening it was
lit more brightly than it had been late last
night.  Approaching it, I heard the same hurrying
of feet I had then heard, and the same
rustling of a woman's dress; but this time I
saw the skirt of a black gown disappearing. It
was not a servant's dress, for the sound was the
sound of silk. Nevertheless, it was the black
man Jacko who skulked past me the next
moment in the passage. As I walked on I
found something white lying at my feet, just
where the woman had flitted past. I picked it
up; it was a lady's pocket-handkerchief, pure
and fine.

I thrust it into my bosom, and did not examine
it, though it was some time before I returned
to the drawing-room. Re-entering there I
beheld Lady Fitzgibbon playing chess with my
uncle. Sne was dressed in the glittering maize-
coloured silk which I mentioned before: a
dress she was fond of. I looked around for
Peg; she was not there, but entered the room
a few minutes after, looking pale, I thought.
In she came, in her everlasting black gown. I
never had felt revolted at its monotonous
reappearance before. A sickening chill crept
over me as I glanced away from her, and looked
scrutinisingly all round the room. Not a lady
of the company was dressed in black save and
excepting Peg O'Shaughnessy. How the evening
wore out I do not know. I examined that
handkerchief before I went to bed, and found,
delicately embroidered in one corner, the
O'Shaughnessy crest.

I need not detail to you, Tom, how, after this,
my days were bitter and my nights sleepless,
in how many ways I strove to account for what
had come under my notice, and how, in accounting
for it whatever way I might, I only made
myself more miserable. There was no solution
for the mystery, and I wretchedly gave it up.

Christmas-eve arrived, and a wild day it was.
The wind bullied at the windows, and the snow-
drifts kept blinding up the panes. It was while
we were hanging up the mistletoe that Lady
Fitzgibbon invited us all to a fancy ball at
Kilbanagher Park on that day three weeks. It
was to be given in honour of Uncle Giles, with
whom she was now first favourite, who was
going on a visit to her house, and who vowed
he would appear at her ball in the character of
a Laplander, dressed in furs. The invitation
made a pleasant little sensation, and costumes
and characters were discussed during the rest
of the day. Every one was pleased but Gorman
Tracey, who was now as jealous of Giles
Humphrey as he had formerly been of me. Where
was Peg that day, and had she, too, been
invited? I did not know. I fancied she had
shunned me ever since that evening.

And now, Tom, I am coming to the bad
black page in my history. The snow-storm
raged that night until one in the morning,
banging at the windows, howling down the
chimneys, and making the floors swing till one
felt as if lying in the cabin of a ship. I believe
no one slept in the beginning of the night,
but towards two in the morning the storm lulled,
and the whole house was wrapped in the deep
slumber that follows a tiresome waking and
longing for sleep. The calming of the wind did
not, unfortunately, remove the cause of my
restlessness, and my eyes remained open, and
my mind full of painful thoughts, long after the
roaring had grown faint in the chimneys, and
the cannonading at my window had ceased. I
had despaired of sleep at last, had arisen and
roused my fire, brightened my lamp and
prepared to read, when I heard a noise in the
corridor. Not a great noise, but a very little
noise; not a noise of one walking or talking,